


How to Woo a Bandit Bird

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Series: Everything's Going Swimmingly [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Animal Transformation, Birds, Canon Character of Color, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29804916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: Fringilla is trying her best to combat the boredom that comes from settling down in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. But she certainly wasn't expecting a gang of fry-stealing birds to install themselves at her favorite restaurant when she dreamed of some excitement to spice up her life...(Can be read as a standalone)
Relationships: Renfri | Shrike/Fringilla Vigo
Series: Everything's Going Swimmingly [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810066
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	How to Woo a Bandit Bird

**Author's Note:**

> A surprise entry into the merm universe! Don't worry, these two will tie into the main storyline soon ;) I wanted to flesh out the world a little bit more, and also indulge in my new rarepair a little bit. So I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Hilariously, this fic was written under the working title 'Fry Stealing Meet Cute' and it was difficult as hell to come up with a better title XD
> 
> If you want to hear what a shrike's calls sound like, I recommend [this page](https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Loggerhead_Shrike/sounds#:~:text=Keller%20%7C%20Macaulay%20Library-,Songs,song%20but%20rougher%20and%20harsher.) with actual recordings!
> 
> I've filed this under the Witcher Netflix fandom because I love Mimi Ndiweni and Emma Appleton way too much to imagine these characters any other way tbqh!

There were benefits to living on the outskirts of a smaller town, Fringilla knew that. The land her little cottage was built on had been cheap and plentiful, and the weather conditions were good in this part of the country. She didn’t have to worry about neighbors looking too hard at the things she grew, or the lights that sometimes flashed out of her windows at night. And the people were generally friendly once they got to know her and realized she wasn’t some temporary interloper. Now, she was part of the community, and all but the most suspicious and generally unfriendly folks would wave and smile when they saw her out on the street or passed by her garden on the road out of town. It was nice to be part of something again.

But there were drawbacks too. The biggest of which being that  _ there wasn’t anything to fucking do out here.  _ Honestly, Fringilla was all for having a quiet life where she had time to read and tend to her craft, but there was something to be said for the occasional burst of excitement. And aside from the weekly farmers market held one town over during the warm months, or the seasonal events put on by the local highschool, there wasn’t any excitement to be had around here. That just meant that Fringilla had to work a little harder to reward herself, and dot little pieces of joy throughout her calendar.

Case in point, her weekly indulgence at the locally revered burger joint. As far as she could tell from her experiences with national cuisine it wasn’t anything particularly special, but everyone in this town loved it. It was always bustling, and the alley behind it served as the hangout spot for local youths who were also bored out of their minds. Seeing as it was the best restaurant that wasn’t overly expensive, Fringilla allowed herself a weekly treat there. What day of the week it landed on was a ‘surprise’ (gods, had she really fallen that far?), but every week she knew she’d go there and get a burger with fries, and a milkshake of some kind.

Then Fringilla would go and find a seat outside (or a seat by the window, in the colder months, where ice and snow swept across the landscape without remorse) and enjoy her bounty. There was a simple joy, she found, in the taste of fresh french fries dipped in ketchup. The tang of the mostly artificial sauce and the residual grease was satisfying in ways it definitely shouldn’t have been. And yet, here she was. Not about to deny herself what little excitement was available to her.

Lately though, there had been a bit of a problem. While Fringilla normally appreciated the wildlife this place did get, they had begun to make a bit of a nuisance of themselves. The little sparrows and grey rock doves which had previously been content to sit and watch her eat, then hop in as she left to clean up the crumbs, now began to make passes at her food while she was still eating it. They hopped around her feet and even up on the table behind her, chirping and shaking their wings at her as if to encourage the dropping of more crumbs, or even whole fries. Which, of course, Fringilla wasn’t stupid enough to do. She knew that if she showed even a little bit of weakness, she’d never be left alone. What a strange lesson to apply to birds, but one that rang true after all.

Fringilla was pretty sure that this new behavior was inspired and encouraged by one bird in particular. It was a strange one - the right shape and size for a sparrow, but with distinctly different markings. And a strangely curved beak that never let out a chirp like the others. And a weird aura. Overall, there were many things that made this particular bird strange to Fringilla, but she tried not to let it cut into her enjoyment of the afternoon too much. She had always had a knack for reading too much into things. It was a blessing in some cases, where she was able to follow a thread through several books that only barely mentioned a concept or a scholar. But in most cases it just meant she overthought things and read too much into people’s intentions. There was a reason she was practicing her craft alone, like most sorceresses. Something about the trade seemed to attract women with a certain set of...worries.

Worries or no, life continued on much the same as it always had in this town, and Fringilla found that she even grew accustomed to the new bird and its frie-stealing ways. She had finally caved and started just offering up a tithe of sorts (3 or 4 of the nicer fries) at the beginning, so she could enjoy the rest of her lunch in peace. Relative peace. The other birds still chirped and flapped, and the strange leader bird still watched her, but from a distance. Fringilla turned her eyes up to the bright blue sky and watched the clouds shift past as she sipped at her milkshake. Everything was relative, but she was grateful for any peace she was granted in this wild world.

On this particular day though, something was wrong. When Fringilla arrived at her regular picnic table outside with her little basket of food, she found the birds in disarray, their little leader missing. Strange, since it wasn’t time for the birds to begin migrating yet, and it seemed unusual that an animal with such an established territory and a good source of food would just up and move on. Fringilla frowned as she sat down, casting her eyes around and finding nothing. She tried not to worry too much about it as she ate her lunch - after all, it was just a bird. Nothing special, just a normal bird that she definitely hadn’t gotten attached to. Gods above, she really didn’t have any friends out here, did she. 

It wasn’t until after she had finished, and was on her way to throw away the trash, that Fringilla heard it. A strange, shrill sound, like a car alarm gone wrong. Curious, and a little concerned that there might be some kind of magical influence at work (it certainly sounded like nothing she’d ever heard), Fringilla steeled herself and followed the sound. It led her to the alley behind the restaurant, filled with the general litter that came from being a spot where bored teenagers liked to spend time. And there, entangled in a discarded section of fishing net, was the strange little bird. Its beak was open and it was periodically shrieking - in distress or anger, it was hard to tell. Relieved that two mysteries had been solved at once, Fringilla rolled up her sleeves and approached the little thing.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” She soothed, as if the bird could understand her, “I’m just going to get you free of this net.” The bird flapped its wings a few more times, then stilled, watching her with wary eyes. Clever bird, Fringilla thought to herself as she reached out and began the careful process of untangling it. The moment her fingers touched its feathers though, she realized the truth in a flash of residual magic energy.

Clever, but not a bird at all.

Hiding her surprise and her desperate interest to know more, Fringilla finished her task, untangling the bird and gathering the net up to dispose of it properly on her way home. Finally free, the bird gave a few tentative hops, flapping its wings and chirping as it regained its usual demeanor. It brought a smile to her face to see it up and about again. 

Before it could fly away, Fringilla spoke up, asking “What are you, really? You’re not a bird, not fully. I could feel it when we touched.”

Confirming her guess, the bird hesitated, turning to face her with its head turning this way and that. Almost like it was sizing her up. Fringilla held her hands out, palms up, in a gesture of peace.

“I won’t hurt you. I’m a practitioner of magic myself, there’ll be no screaming or panic on my end.” She reassured.

A few moments passed, where Fringilla found herself holding her breath without really noticing, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a cake knife. She blinked, and suddenly -

Suddenly there was a woman standing in front of her instead of a bird. She was wearing a sort of grey shift dress with a black belt - the same colors of the feathers she had worn just moments before - and her hands were set firmly on her hips, stance confident yet a little defensive. A tousle of unruly brown hair framed her face and fell into her eyes, so different from the tight black curls that Fringilla kept so neatly styled on top of her own head. The moment of mutual observation passed, and the woman in front of Fringilla grinned, cheeks dimpling.

“Guess you weren’t lying. What are you, a sorceress or something?” She asked, and Fringilla nodded.

“Good thing too. I don’t trust sorcerers.” The woman continued, rather matter-of-factly, “Bastards, the lot of them. Haven’t known a lot of sorceresses. Except for, you know. You.”

Her sentences were short and to the point, syllables clipped, almost as if she were still used to chirping away. Fringilla couldn’t help but chuckle, her own smile emerging.

“You count our little lunchtime rendezvous, even though you were a bird for all of them?” She teased, and the woman shrugged, replying, “I mean, the company was still nice, wasn’t it?” 

“It was. Except for the whole fry stealing business.” Fringilla said, despite it not having bothered her that much at all. Good, because it seemed like the other woman didn’t seem repentant at all, barking out a laugh.

“Suppose if I’ve stolen all your fries I owe you my name, huh? Renfri. Or Shrike. You can call me either.” She said, but didn’t offer her hand to shake. She seemed to catch on quickly when Fringilla held hers out though, shaking it firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you Renfri. I’m Fringilla.”

Handshake over, the two stood in comfortable silence for a moment, until Fringilla remembered that they were standing behind a burger joint in a dirty alley.

“Would you be interested in maybe continuing this conversation somewhere else? Maybe back at my cottage? I have biscuits I baked yesterday, and the weather is perfect for sitting outside and telling an interested sorceress about how a shifter ended up leading a band of bird bandits.” She offered, feeling almost shy by the end. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already spent plenty of time together, as Renfri had pointed out, but now that they were seeing eye to eye it felt so much more personal.

Luckily, Renfri seemed more than pleased with the idea, because she finally relaxed her posture, her one arm coming down to hang loosely at her side. 

“Oh you do know the way to a shifter’s heart. Biscuits  _ and _ a chance to chirp away about my own story? Consider me sold.” She replied, “Lead the way!” 

As it so happened, Fringilla ended up knowing even more ways to a shifter’s heart than either of them had imagined, and it wasn’t long before her weekly burger treat turned into a weekly date. The shifter even agreed to call her little bandits off, but Fringilla was sure that was mostly because Renfri wanted to be the only one stealing her fries. After all, that was how this whole thing had started. And it was important to keep consistency in a relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, I've fallen in love with these two and just _had_ to find a way to work them into my merm AU! I'm super excited about how they fit in with the main storyline too, I can't wait to share that with you all in the future :3c
> 
> Any and all kudos or comments at any time will be loved and cherished, although never required <3 I reply to all my comments, even if it takes me a few days! I'm available on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/) if you ever feel like chatting or reading some of my lil drabbles, I’d love to see you there C:


End file.
